The Pirate's Booty (The Plundered Chronicles Book 1)

by Alex Westmore

  “You never gave me your name.”

  Quinn grinned slightly. “No, madam, I did not.” Opening the door, she stepped out, right into the oncoming path of Siobhan Riordan.

  “There you are. I thought you might have slipped through my fingers.”

  Quinn sighed and walked with Siobhan back into the grand hall. Her mind was never far from the lovely Fiona, a woman who proved to be more than a small distraction from the job at hand.

  So far, no English. That was a good thing.

  The rest of the evening went without incident, with Quinn gazing at Fiona from afar as she worked her way around the room charming guests.

  Quinn knew she was smitten the moment Fiona looked up and caught her gaze. Fiona did not turn away. Instead, she held her look for some time, rewarding Quinn with a slight nod and a brief smile.

  When Patrick and Quinn finally headed back to the village, Patrick said, “It hurts my heart to see you long for love, sister. I wish there was something I could do to persuade you to cease this charade.”

  “I’ll find love one day, Patrick, but not now. First, we need to keep our eyes open for the English. Once we are out of here, I must find the corsair who snatched Shea and bring her home. Until that happens, love has no place in my life.”

  Patrick shook his head. “Love will always have a place in your life, Quinn. It is the nature of who you are. Even when you were a little girl, you loved harder than anyone I’d ever met. It is your love of Shea that pushes you like a madwoman. Are you sure she is not the one you are in love with?”

  “She’s my best mate, Paddy, and I love her with all of me, but no, I do not love her in that way.”

  “You loved Missy Davis once, didn’t you?”

  Quinn smiled softly. “Aye. I think I fell in love with the way she smelled.”

  Patrick chuckled. “Oh, aye, she smelled of mint and something sweet, she did. You lusted after her more than any of the boys. That’s when I knew.” He paused. “It’s how I know you have feelings for the lady.” Patrick’s eyes glanced up behind Quinn.

  Turning around to look at the castle, Quinn wondered if Fiona was still looking out over the sea and creating those unmade memories.

  She could only hope.

  ***

  “Stand still, ya land-grabbin’, good-fer-nuthin’, ale-sloggin’, whore-screwin’ sea dogs!” Grace yelled as the crew gathered on the top deck of the Malendroke. The men, who appeared to enjoy the epithets, roared and banged their swords on the deck railing. When everyone quieted down, she continued. “We lost five good men the other night, but they went down fightin’ hard and drawin’ blood that should make us all proud.”

  “Five?” Connor asked.

  “Three ta death, and two will never hold a sword again, so aye. Five.”

  The crew all nodded as they settled down a bit more.

  “Listen up, ya bloody blokes. Elizabeth has her sights set on us, me boys, and it’s up ta us ta send her trespassers ta the bottom a’ the sea.”

  The crew cheered loudly.

  “Blackrock Castle was just the beginnin’. They’re feelin’ us out––tryin’ ta see if we are together enough ta withstand her mighty navy and a few middlin’ skirmishes. I say we showed ’em just how together we are!”

  Cheers even louder.

  “So, what I have ta ask ya is this: I want ya all ta consider yer families, yer loves, yer people, because the queen a’ Connacht is no longer just piratin’ and taxin’ the bloody hell out a’ those English ships––she is declarin’ war on any and all that land aggressively on our shores.”

  The men went wild now, and Grace had to wait for them to quiet before continuing. “Word has it, the Shanahans fought well and bravely, so ya are ta treat ’em as one a’ us. Ennaone not doin’ so will be tossed over the side a’ the ship. Secondly, we made it through last evenin’ with no issue, but that doesn’t mean a thing. There are English ships off the coast a’ Wales that need watchin’. As such, I am goin’ ta sail out and see whether or not they are makin’ their way here. But I don’t intend on leavin’ Blackrock unguarded, and Lord Moynihan has offered a generous bit a’ coin if I leave a coupla dozen men ta guard it. Now I know many a’ ya would rather have a parrot shit in yer mouth than ta be landed, so I am askin’ first fer enna volunteers ta stay here while we sail out.”

  Patrick caught Quinn’s eye and nodded. “My brother and I will stay behind.”

  Grace checked this with Quinn, who nodded. “Aye, Captain, though I prefer staying in my ship’s clothing. That dandy wear scratched somethin’ awful.” Quinn grabbed at her crotch while the crew laughed uproariously.

  Grace found twenty-one men willing to remain on land and assigned three more. “I’ll remain moored at sea upon return, and will send fer the rest a’ ya. Innis will give ya yer guard assignments. Stick ta ’em. Ennaone thinkin’ they’re payin’ ya ta eat, drink, and be merry will find yer ass handed ta ya before I boot ya from my ship. If we are bein’ paid ta protect, then protect. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded.

  Grace O’Malley raised her fist in the air. “Fer Ireland!”

  “Fer Ireland!!”

  Quinn’s detail was the outer cliffs of Blackrock to the north, which was fine with her. She could easily see the parapets from her vantage point, and anyone coming down the road would be highly visible.

  She’d volunteered in part because Patrick seemed to need more land time than she, and she wanted him to have that. He’d been so good about all of this pirating activity, but she could tell it was beginning to wear on him.

  But mostly, she just wanted to be closer to Fiona... to maybe have one more chat with her before the sea called her away. Maybe being with Kennedy and Bronwen had shown her how much she was missing female companionship.

  Because she really was.

  But not just friendship. Patrick had been right about her and love. She was in love with the notion of being in love. It was what she longed for and what she craved. It had been so hard longing for something she had no idea how to get.

  No.

  Strike that.

  What she longed for, what she craved, was in that castle, and her name was Fiona Moynihan.

  ***

  She had only been at her post a few hours when a couple of riders on horseback came trotting down the road. Swords drawn, she stood in the middle of their path. She could tell by the way they rode the horses that they weren’t pirates. Pirates and horses didn’t mix so well.

  “State the nature of yer business,” she commanded the lead rider.

  “I’ll not answer to a scurrilous pirate. Sheathe your weapons or prepare to die.”

  Quinn grinned. His foppish attire, shiny hilt, and soft hands told her all she needed to know about the legitimacy of his threat.

  Empty words––that was all.

  “Come down off yer horse, then.”

  He hesitated. “There are three of us and but one of you. Stand aside. We’ve no quarrel with the likes of you.”

  “Sure ya do. You needed only ta answer my question, but the minute ya did not do so was the moment our quarrel began.” Quinn took her fighting stance. “So I suggest ya slide down off those horses and prepare ta make good yer threat.”

  Ever so slowly, all three men dismounted and drew their swords.

  “There ya go. Now we have a quarrel.” Quinn centered her weight and gauged the fighting

  prowess of the other two. They, too, were foppish and soft. She could defeat them easily.

  The problem was that she couldn’t kill them. They were Irish noblemen. Should she appear a highwayman and then kill them, she would be brought up on charges.

  The lead rider, wearing a gold jacket with several buttons, held his sword tip against hers. Dropping to the ground, Quinn did a leg sweep that knocked him on his back. In an instant, she was back on her feet, her sword tip now pressed against his neck.

  “It would appear we have a problem,” Quinn said to the other two men. �
�Ya move one hair toward me, and he is a dead man. Ya raise them above yer shoulders, he’s a dead man. Ya so much as twitch the wrong way, and he’s a dead man. So sheathe yer swords, get back on yer horses, and ride back a mile, where ya will wait fer one of the castle’s men ta summon ya.”

  “You’ll kill him.”

  Quinn shook her head. “If that were true, he would be dead already. So would ya. I am not here ta collect souls of the Irish. I am here ta protect the Moynihan’s interests from the English. Get back on yer horses and wait, or I kill him and the both of ya.”

  “What about him?”

  “He stays with me.”

  The two men exchanged glances before sheathing their swords and mounting their horses.

  “Good decision. Should ya return before ya are summoned, ya will all die. Now go.”

  The two riders took off, and Quinn helped the man to his feet.

  “Do you know who I am?” he asked.

  Quinn shook her head. “No. Nor do I care. I’ll let Moynihan decide if he cares who ya are. Now, grab the reins and start walking.”

  “Walking? Where... where are you taking me?”

  “Where else? Blackrock Castle.”

  ***

  Geoffrey Moynihan thanked Quinn for being so fervent in her guard duties, but the dandy, whose name was Archibald O’Neil, did, in fact, have business with Moynihan.

  “Would ya like me ta escort ya ta the other two?” Quinn asked after Moynihan explained O’Neil’s presence.

  “That won’t be necessary. We’ve received no word that any English have landed, but I do appreciate your concern. Grace O’Malley deserves a hero’s place in history for her care and protection of Eyre and her people”

  “Aye, sir, that she does, that she––”

  “Father, have you even offered to give our protector something to drink?”

  Quinn turned to face Fiona. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

  Lord Moynihan bowed to his daughter and shook his head. “Your mother, God rest her soul, would have done as much. Forgive my manners.”

  “Nothing ta forgive, sir,” Quinn said. “I need to get back ta my position.”

  Moynihan mounted the horse that his stablehand brought and waited for O’Neil to do the same. “I’ll not have Grace O’Malley think me a barbarian. Please. Allow my daughter to at least pour you an ale.”

  Quinn bowed her head. “Very well. Safe travels.”

  When the two men rode off, Fiona stepped next to Quinn and watched as the horses disappeared from sight.

  “I never hoped... er... expected ta see ya again so soon,” Quinn said, willing her cheeks not to turn red.

  “My father trusts you with me. You. A pirate. A thief.” Fiona chuckled. “The irony of that abounds.”

  “Perhaps he knows a man of character when he sees one.”

  “Touché.” Fiona faced Quinn. “How is your wound?”

  “Much better, thank ya. I wasn’t sure ya would recognize me.”

  “Because you wore black on your face? You silly man. You have unforgettable eyes, Callaghan.” She locked eyes with Quinn. “Unforgettable.”

  Quinn wasn’t quite sure what to make of the emphasis of that last word, so she let it go.

  “Have you time to walk the garden with me?” Fiona’s voice was gentle like a warm breeze.

  Quinn knew it was a bad idea––knew that in the harsh light of day, Fiona just might recognize her as the man from the ball, but she could not force herself to say no.

  “I believe I have time enough fer that, yes.”

  As they walked among the voluminous rose garden, Fiona stopped every so often to smell the various flowers in bloom. “Were you looking for a reason to come to the castle?”

  “Did I need one?”

  Fiona laughed. “You, sir, are quicker on your feet than the average pirate.”

  “Do ya know many average pirates?”

  She laughed again. “My, how you make me laugh.”

  “Hearing yer laughter fills me with joy, m’lady.”

  “You, sir, are too kind.” Fiona continued walking. “But if you call me that one more time, we shall have problems.”

  Quinn nodded and held her hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. I shall try. I am neither a sir nor kind, but it pleases me ta have ya think both.”

  Approaching a bench that overlooked the hedges of the garden, Fiona took a seat. “A pirate can’t be kind?”

  “Not if he expects a long life.”

  She patted the bench. “Please. Sit.” A slight breeze blew her hair over her shoulder and rustled the fabric of her light blue dress. Quinn wished for a moment that she could run her fingers over the fabric.

  Sitting on the bench, Quinn looked out over the garden instead. There were several colors of roses hanging onto the thorny stems.

  “Why do you do it?”

  “It?”

  Fiona turned her body to face Quinn completely. “Piracy. Why do you do it?”

  “For reasons other than what ya might believe.”

  Fiona grinned. “I’m listening. I would love to know what it was that made you turn to privateering.”

  “A friend of mine, a dear friend, was taken by corsairs. I joined Captain O’Malley’s crew in an effort to find her.”

  Several moments ticked by before Fiona spoke again. “Her? Oh. I see. Your lover.”

  Quinn shook her head. “A childhood friend. A clan member. And I have gone after her because she would do the same for me if the roles were reversed. We made a pact as young... children.” Oh how close she’d come to saying young girls. She would have to be much more careful than she was being.

  Fiona stared into Quinn’s eyes. “Is this true?”

  “Aye.”

  “What a wonderful friend you are to go to such lengths. I apologize for my earlier impudence. What you are doing is a very sweet, if dangerous, thing to do.”

  A slight blush crept up Quinn’s cheeks. “The danger matters not at all. Without our word, we are nothing. Without loyalty to our people, we are nothing. ”

  Fiona leaned into her without actually touching her. “Well, you are something. The way you speak reminds me of someone.”

  “Oh?” Quinn felt her heart pick up a beat.

  Fiona smiled softly, her eyes betraying her. “A poet who wasn’t a poet.”

  Quinn realized she had lost the pirate edginess and toughness to her voice and silently cursed herself for that error. “I don’t know what that means, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “You should. It was meant to be.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Fiona said, “Let me put it differently. You are not like any pirate I’ve heard about.”

  Quinn chose her reply carefully. “Being led by Captain O’Malley is not like being led by a man. Perhaps that is the difference you see.” Quinn rose. “And if I do not return soon, and my captain gets word of my absence, she may not be my captain much longer.”

  Fiona rose as well. “Can Grace be such a harsh taskmaster?”

  “Aye. She can be, but that isn’t why I leave. I return to my position out of respect for her orders. Her men... we honor and respect Grace O’Malley because she is Eyre. She bleeds for us, she fights for us, and at the end of the day, her courage makes us better men.”

  Fiona smiled again. “See? Poet. I seem to be attracting them to me.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Nothing poetic about me, m’lady. I am loyal to the sea and the woman who commands it.”

  Fiona stepped towards Quinn, so close that they could have kissed.

  “Then Grace O’Malley, queen of Connacht, is a very lucky woman. A very lucky woman, indeed.”

  ***

  The English have not returned to Blackrock Castle, but they have returned to our seas, and Grace O’Malley has spent the last three days hunting down one ship in particular. When she sent it to Davy Jones’s locker, she returned to Blackrock for festivities and merriment in a much better m
ood than she’d been in lately.

  My head still aches from the merriment.

  How these men can imbibe in the manner in which they do is beyond me. A couple of our men passed out, woke up, drank and caroused some more before passing out again.

  I excused myself after several cups of mead. The tavern had begun to spin a bit, so I stepped out to get some fresh air. I didn’t realize I hadn’t stepped out alone. As I stood outside, looking up at the moon, I felt someone standing next to me.

  Trying to focus on her face, I looked at a woman I’d seen someplace before, but my fuzzy mind could not put her face with a place.

  She knew I did not remember her.

  I did not.

  I could barely remember my name at that point, but I knew enough to know she was the kind of woman I was usually attracted to. She was soft, had a kind voice, and her lips were so red I could see the color in the near darkness.

  Funny thing was, she wasn’t some woman I’d been intimate with at all. She told me she was a cook at Blackrock Castle and that she’d come bearing a message from Fiona.

  That message, which she was wont to put on parchment, was that any time I needed a roof over my head on land, I was always welcome at Blackrock Castle.

  I was far too fuzzy to understand the nuances of what the woman said, so she spelled it out.

  She said that her mistress has not been the same since the attack. She told me that Lady Fiona stares for hours on end at the sea. She hums. She whistles. She exudes joy. She explained that Fiona is like a different person––full of life, renewed energy. She laughs and smiles like she’s not done since before her mum died.

  I did not know what to say, so I remained silent in my near stupor.

  She went on to explain that my presence near the castle has changed Fiona.

  I could only struggle to focus my thoughts on her words.

  In the end, she practically shook me and told me she was afraid Fiona had given her heart to me... me, a dastardly pirate, of all things.

  I asked her if she wanted me to give it back.

  She laughed and said she thought it was too late.

  Too late?

  Yes, she said to me.